


Sunstruck

by sunnywords



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Flangst?, Fluff, Mental Health Issues, hints of space nerd!wonu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 02:21:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16714726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnywords/pseuds/sunnywords
Summary: Wonwoo has yet to uncover the secrets of the universe...but he already knows you.





	Sunstruck

Wonwoo is reserved, never one for grandiose expressions. It’s not that he doesn’t know how to string the right words together—quite the contrary, the boy has fallen in love with a plethora of books and their words have made a home on his lips—he just doesn’t give them away carelessly. He’s quiet, saving his voice for ears that are deserving. And although he’s visited plenty of far away lands in his reads, Wonwoo is anchored, never drifting too far away from the present.

On the other hand, you are the embodiment of a headless chicken with its vocal cords still intact. You’re uninhibited, sincerities helplessly spilling out in the form of word vomit. Scattered is your default setting; thoughts sporadically present themselves to you and keep you flighty, head in the thick of the clouds.

So when Wonwoo walks into your living room met with the sight of you nestled into the couch swallowed by a heap of blankets with the lights off, he sneaks up to lovingly boop you on the nose. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to snap you out of daydreaming about being a hobbit in The Shire. (He notes that it’s usually while your feet dangle off the back of the couch, hair swaying to the carpet and with the lights on.) But when he comes closer to find a stream of tears slowly trickling down your cheeks, sniffling and eyes drooping, he freezes.

Jeon Wonwoo, the embodiment of Calm and Collected **™** , panics. He feels his heart hammering in his chest as if it wanted to let itself out and offer you consolation. So he does the work for it, scrambling from the other side of the room, knocking his knee against the coffee table as he makes his way to kneel beside you.

Gently taking your face into his palms and wiping your tears away with his thumbs, he braces himself for the worst. “What’s wrong?”

The worst comes when you lock eyes and nothing comes, your mouth gaping open like a fish out of water. Wonwoo knows your thoughts are always ready to somersault from all kinds of directions in your head, knows you as the personification of warmth—literally (the boy snuggles up to you the way a kitten buries itself onto any heat source) and figuratively. The mere sight of you feels like a golden hour glow swimming into his fingertips, all the way down to his toes. He knows you like he knows his favorite novel, memorizes you from page to page, letter by letter. To find you looking broken feels like the words have mystically rewritten themselves into a different storyline.

“Just sad,” you settle, offering him a weak smile.

You both know that ‘sad’ doesn’t quite fit, because nothing typically withers you down to two-word responses. He doesn’t call you out for it and bites back a trademark snarky quip, afraid that the weight of this will unravel you. He knows that you despise even the mere acknowledgement of the Seasonal Uglies making yet another return. You’re thankful that he doesn’t press and he’s well aware he has no reason to—you’re a skilled sailor in this sea, no foreigner to the waves that try to pull you under. You’ve told him tales of your sorrows concocted by none other than a dangerous mix of too much silence and not enough sunlight along with your wandering thoughts. It served as a forewarning, as if to say, _do you dare tread these waters?_

Jeon Wonwoo is no delusional fool—he doesn’t toy with fantasies of being a knight in shining armor, and he doesn’t offer his love as if it were a salve (you would never let him if he tried anyway). Instead, he is wholly himself without strive or strain, and not for a lack of compassion. It’s just that he’s certain that he’s good enough on his own and so are you. There are no blanks to be filled or parts needing repairing, not when you are you and he is himself.

He scoops you into his arms, swiftly taking your seat in the corner of the couch before setting you down snugly in his lap. With your cheek pressed to his chest, you both sigh. Not in exhaustion, but the same way that hawthorn trees do when they meet in the middle to merge; like coming home. He suspects that silence is the last thing you need at the moment with all the buzz in your head, so he sifts through the thoughts he’s been saving for your ears.

“It’s going to be a cloudy day tomorrow.”

(You find it strange that the same boy who spent an entire hour and a half trying to convince you that time is nonexistent is attempting small talk about the weather, but you don’t interrupt. His voice is your favorite sound and you’d willingly let him talk your ear off even if it were a recitation of the 1983 encyclopedia.)

“A contrast from how sunny it was today,” a small smile tugs on the corner of his mouth when he remembers the yellow daisies he passed by that morning, peeking out from the cracks of the sidewalk. They reminded him of you.

The words tickle at the tip of his tongue and Wonwoo can tell he’s going to start rambling. He might even snicker at how he could have done much better with his choice of words when he replays this in his head later, but it doesn’t bother him too much. His rawness is safe with you.

“And that’s alright. The sun’s still shining and secured in place even if the clouds squish into a barrier in the sky, no matter how dense they get.”

He thinks he might sound like a three-year-old reveling in discovering the weather for the first time, and picks up your hand to fidget with the ring on your pinky finger, “The sky will gray but the sun won’t dim because the blazing ball of fire is its own entity and the clouds can hang around but the sun’s still the sun and nothing can take its place. That’s you. Not missing, just… obscured.”

A response is the last thing Wonwoo expects, and he doesn’t think he needs one, just wants to remind you that you’re still you. When he feels your lips press a firm kiss to his cheek, he could argue that even the sun isn’t capable of melting him so easily the way you do. He looks down to be met with your glassy gaze, and he’s mildly alarmed once his words sink in.

You notice the shift in the air immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“I just realized I compared my girlfriend to a two quintillion kilogram ball of gas up in space.”

Your eyes bulge momentarily before erupting into a fit of giggles and Wonwoo thinks you might just be the entire universe instead, because it sounds like a sky of stars singing in unison. He’s never been to outerspace but he’d willingly get fired by stealing a space shuttle from NASA to launch himself into the abyss if you asked him to prove it. He’s pleased that his spluttering doesn’t offend you, even in such a fragile state.

“Why do you know how much the sun weighs? Does everyone at NASA know how much the sun weighs?” You ask in pure bewilderment, voice still frail from crying.

Wonwoo exhales a small laugh through his nose, amused by the purity of your curiosity. He hums, running his fingers through your hair as you stare up at him, “Just an astronomy book I borrowed from the library a couple weeks ago.”

“Oh. Well can you read to me tomorrow? While the sun’s in hiding you can tell me all about it, along with your stars and galaxies.”

(At your request, an image flashes across his mind. Somewhere down along the road, when he tucks your baby girl into a layer of blankets as the rain patters against the window, she’ll ask him to tell her about the universe. And he’ll simply say the same words he swallows down at this moment-- _you are every star in the sky, and all the ones humanity’s yet to discover._ )

“I promise I won’t fall asleep again,” you add when he doesn’t respond soon enough, still guilty over that time sleep crept up on you in a moment that deserved your full attention.

His chest vibrates with a chuckle and he feels you smiling against him.  
  
“I wouldn’t mind if you do,” his fingers pause at the nape of your neck to kiss the top of your head. “I’m happy to let you rest.” 

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't do research for this pls don't fight me--this is just a bunch of words i was mysteriously capable of while sad so just all the CHEESE,,published while on the verge of blacking out into sweet sweet slumber (in other words it's not thoroughly edited but that's my brand anyway so it's fine)


End file.
